Spellbound

by Ophelia Silk

  “What if,” Jane said quietly, “none of us had to live in town?”

  There was nothing but the whisper quiet of the rain. And then, just before it looked like Eloise would speak, a scream rang out through the woods. As if in unison, a man’s voice called her name from the direction of the marketplace.

  Jane’s head whipped between the two sources of noise. “That was Adelaide.” She turned to the marketplace. In the distance, a crowd with torches stood. “And that was William.”

  The group huddled closer together. Then, Rosemary drew up to her full height. “Go to Adelaide. We’ll distract the townspeople.”

  “Thank you.” Jane started, but stopped at the sound of a young voice calling out through the trees.

  “Jane!”

  Jane turned. Eloise held out fistfuls of white petals. A small smile creased her face.

  “We’re the same. And maybe these will help.”

  Jane nodded, taking them. Then she ran into the forest.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  A Heart Undenied

  “IT’S TOO LATE.”

  “We’ll rip out her throat.”

  “Why not throw away your petals and join her?”

  Jane ignored the hissing voices, charging deep into the forest. “Adelaide! Adelaide, where are you?” She shouted at the top of her lungs, not caring if the others’ distraction didn’t work. Staying hidden, keeping her secrets from the town didn’t matter as much as keeping Adelaide safe.

  “Jane?” A desperate call echoed through the woods, too solid and real to be coming from the beasts. But it was also hard to believe that it belonged to Adelaide. It simply sounded so frantic. “Jane, where are you?”

  Jane spun and changed course, toward the sound of the voice. “Adelaide, I’m coming!”

  Tree branches whipped at her face, but she ignored them, even when one opened up a bright sizzling line of pain along her cheek. She ducked and weaved and panted, eventually breaking into a clearing bathed in misty moonlight.

  Adelaide was entirely unprepared for the weather. She wore just a nightgown that billowed around her ankles, and her hair was a ragged mess. Her face was pale and wan in a way that it rarely looked, her dark eyes swallowing up her expression as they landed on Jane.

  “Jane,” she whispered. It seemed to echo all through the trees.

  And that was when the beast burst forth from the ground.

  Adelaide gasped, stumbling back. The confident woman from the night she rescued Jane was nowhere to be found. That didn’t matter. Her words were embedded in Jane’s mind, the Old Words echoing in her heart.

  “Linre! Nonbit ai!” Jane screamed.

  The creature reared back, fixing Jane with a baleful red gaze. It almost seemed to be daring her to come closer. The Jane from before, the Jane with nothing to lose and no one to protect, would have cowered. She would have tried to run.

  Now, she drove forward, fists full of petals from Eloise, heart full of bravery and love she refused to hide from any longer.

  “Elcit! Linre!”

  She threw her handfuls of petals at the beast, a grin of satisfaction spreading across her face when it began to crumple in on itself. She would not cower, and she would not let Adelaide cower, either. She threw her petals, shouting at the top of her lungs, the Old Words burning in her throat.

  “Linre! Linre! Linre!”

  With a final screech, the beast crumpled back into the earth.

  Jane breathed heavy. The taste of copper coated the back of her throat, either because of the Old Words or simply from the ordinary force of her shout. The reason didn’t particularly matter.

  What mattered was Adelaide.

  Jane turned to her. She was trembling, face just a bit too wet to blame on the light, misting rain. Jane reached out, wanting to brush that moisture away. But her hand hovered in the air, hesitating. Did Adelaide still not want her?

  “Are you alright?” she asked.

  “I heard you calling,” Adelaide said, her voice breaking. “I heard you screaming. I should have known better than to fall for the beasts’ tricks, but…”

  It was all Jane needed to hear to close the distance between them. Adelaide still cared. Cared enough to run headlong into the forest after years of being too smart for the beasts’ games.

  It began with Jane’s hand on Adelaide’s cheek. And then, when Adelaide didn’t pull away, her chest pressed against her chest. And finally their lips, meeting in a desperate lock that tasted of rainwater and tears, but also of home. Jane closed her eyes, leaning in.

  “I missed you,” Jane whispered when they broke apart, still clinging to Adelaide’s cheeks with both her hands. “I missed you and missed you and I couldn’t not miss you.”

  “I missed you, too,” Adelaide said. She leaned her forehead against Jane’s, voice rough. “I shouldn’t have been so—so stubborn. I should have found a way to compromise with you. This forest is just all I’ve ever known, and I was scared of losing it.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Jane stroked Adelaide’s rain-heavy hair, pushing it back from her face. “I was scared of a lot of things, too. But I don’t want to act in fear anymore. I want to act in love. Love of you, and if you love this forest, then I will learn to love it, too.”

  “But you love your parties, a community. A group to call your own. That isn’t wrong either. What kind of lover would I be, if I took you from that?”

  Jane laced their fingers together. “What if you didn’t have to? What if we could have both—community, and the forest you love and call home?”

  Jane watched confusion turn to disbelief on Adelaide’s face. And, finally, she watched that disbelief turn to hope.

  Before she could explain, a crowd burst through the trees. William’s voice echoed through the wood. “Get away from my wife, witch!”

  Adelaide drew back, but Jane held fast to her hands. She turned on William and the mob with burning eyes. How small they seemed to her now! Had she ever thought that their opinions were important? How could they be her community, if they did not accept her for who she was?

  “I’m not your wife,” Jane hissed. “And I never will be.”

  William took a step back, gray eyes wide. “She’s bewitched you.”

  “She has done no such thing!” Jane stepped forward, her arms spread protectively. “Adelaide Thompson is a good woman. She defeated the beast who attacked me, saved me using magic. And I have saved her in kind.” She held out her final handful of petals. “If you are going to condemn her, you will have to condemn me, because I practice the same magic as her.”

  Whispers rippled through the crowd, her own name and the word witch being the most prevalent. Once, it would have made her feel sick. But now, after facing down the beast with the petals in her hand, she simply felt powerful.

  William stumbled. “You’re lost.”

  “No.” Jane gave a tight smile. “You’re lost. Or, at least, you’ve lost the hold you had over me. Tell them everything you know, William. You have nothing left to force me to marry you.”

  Eyes turned to William, and she could see him pale beneath the scrutinizing gaze. Their opinion still meant so much to him. Him forcing a bride to marry him did not fit in with his image of a Good Man, and he knew it.

  “Dear,” he said. “You wanted me to help you…”

  “My name is Jane,” she responded firmly. “And I want nothing from you.”

  She entwined her fingers with Adelaide’s. She could feel the gazes of the townspeople going to those clasped hands, drawing their conclusions. Her heart thundered against her ribs, nearly hard enough to crack, but she didn’t let go.

  If they were to damn her for this, then they were never truly hers. And she didn’t want to be theirs.

  “Jane,” Adelaide murmured, “We should go.” Her eyes were so wide in her face. Jane wanted to kiss away the fear she saw there, but now was not the time. Later, perhaps, in the cabin, they would have all the time in the world.

&
nbsp; They started away. But the townspeople blocked their exit.

  “We can’t let you leave,” one said.

  “You lured away one of our own.”

  “You’re evil.”

  “She’s not!” Jane cried. “We’re not!” But the townspeople were converging in on them. Hands were reaching out to rip them apart. Jane turned on Adelaide, clutching her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want—”

  “Enough!”

  The harsh voice booming across the forest was enough to stop everyone in their tracks. Rosemary stood there, her eyes blazing. And there was Florence, Mercy. Eloise with her head held higher than Jane had ever seen her. All of the others, people who didn’t fit, just like her.

  “We will not let you harm these women,” Rosemary said.

  “Rosemary, what have you done?” An angry man’s voice echoed from the crowd.

  “Mercy, what are you doing?” A man that Jane recognized as Mercy’s husband called.

  “Eloise,” a man hissed. He had Eloise’s strawberry blonde hair and pointed chin. “What do you think you’re playing at?”

  Both Mercy and Eloise shrank back, but then they shared a glance. They locked arms. Mercy squared her shoulders and Eloise tilted her chin up, eyes defiant and voice strong. “I won’t be taking orders from you anymore!”

  “These women are going to live their lives unbothered,” Rosemary said. “For too long you’ve tormented us, fit us into ill-fitting boxes and told us it was the best we could aspire to be.”

  “You’re wrong!” One of the men shouted, and lightning cracked through the forest. “We don’t have to settle for that. Not anymore.”

  The townspeople looked around, frightened and unnerved by so many of their own seemingly going feral. Adelaide began to laugh.

  “You have two choices,” Adelaide said. “You could continue to harass us, try to throw your weight around. Or you could leave us to live our lives peacefully, away from you.” The ground began to tremble, cracks opening up in the earth. Adelaide offered a wicked smile. “Need I remind you, though, that you’re on my turf.”

  Adelaide began to glow. And one after one, so did the others—Rosemary a dusty red, Eloise the same white as the Edelweiss flowers. Jane looked down at her hands and was unsurprised to see that same color washing over her as energy crackled through them all, lifting their hair and swirling skirts and coats.

  Fear rippled through the crowds. Running started at the edges, but soon dissolved throughout the whole crowd. William spared only a glance for Jane, glowing full of bright white light, before running away.

  That left only their allies. The glow faded, and Adelaide stumbled. Jane was there in an instant, arms around her waist.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Exhausted from all that. But I’ll be okay.” Her gaze flitted from one person to another as she leaned against Jane. “Thank you. All of you. I don’t think I would have been able to frighten them off alone.”

  “You don’t have to be alone,” Jane said. “We don’t have to be alone. None of us do.” She smiled at Adelaide. “I think that the forest has room for a few more cottages, don’t you?”

  Adelaide smiled. And throughout the crowd of those who’d come to the witch’s cabin, once upon a time, Jane saw similar smiles rippling out.

  “Let’s go, then,” Adelaide said. “I hope you all don’t mind sleeping on cold floors, at least for a bit! Honestly, while I appreciate the grand gesture it might have been just as effective with three or four of you, have you forgotten the size of my home?”

  Jane laughed. And then she kissed Adelaide, full on the lips, unmindful of those who saw.

  In spite of their distance from the cabin, in that moment, Jane felt as though she had come home.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  A Life Fulfilled

  “WHAT ARE YOU doing out here, Jane?”

  Jane looked over at Adelaide. Time had softened the sharpest of her edges—well, time and her inability to resist Rosemary’s cooking. Her hair had grown longer, down to her waist, and the swell of her dark skirts were gauzy and romantic as the light from the doorway beyond silhouetted her.

  Jane smiled, patting the space on the dirt beside her. “Watching the sunset.”

  It wasn’t a lie, but it was a half truth. Jane had spent her time in the garden gazing at the sky. But she perhaps spent an equal time gazing at the space around them—at the wooden homes that surrounded theirs, the lights in the windows, the flowers swaying in the breeze. She could close her eyes and listen to the laughter and companionable chatter that echoed from the open windows and full porches.

  Florence and Alice sat on their front porch, in animated conversation with John and Cliff, just two couples as free to exist as Adelaide and Jane were. Ruth, who had just joined their community a month ago, walked out of Rosemary’s house with a wide smile and a freshly sewn dress to replace the hand-me-downs lent to her when she arrived and declared that she wanted to live as the woman she knew that she truly was.

  Adelaide sat beside Jane, her arm finding a comfortable spot around her waist. Her lips found a similarly comfortable spot where Jane’s shoulder met her throat. Jane tilted her head back, humming happily at the contact.

  “Get a room!” Florence’s voice echoed, and there was good-natured laughter all around. But there was no malice in the tone, only friendly teasing.

  Adelaide giggled against Jane’s skin. “Should we heed that advice?”

  “Hmmm…” Jane tapped her lips, thoughtful. “I have a better idea.” Abruptly, she tackled Adelaide into the dirt, hiding them behind a line of tall flowers. Adelaide let out an indignant noise, but it quickly dissolved into laughter.

  Jane looked down at her, for a moment quite forgetting to breathe. Even all these months later she could still shock Jane’s heart into flutters, starry-eyed and soft with her hair splayed around her face in a halo.

  “You’re so beautiful.” Jane leaned down to kiss her.

  Adelaide received her warmly, arms curling around Jane’s shoulder blades. The sounds of the community—their community—around them was the gentlest of lullabies, a hum of laughter, conversation and cheer.

  When she and Adelaide finally drew apart, she knew that Adelaide was hearing it, too. Her eyes were crinkled and fond. “I never thought I could be this happy,” Adelaide admitted, quiet.

  Jane sat, fingertips trailing up and down the bare skin of Adelaide’s arms. “Nor did I.” It was amazing to think of what they’d accomplished in the past months. It was coming up on a year since Jane had left her parents’ farm. It hadn’t been easy, building a community. But it had been so worth it. None had come to bother them. Those like Ruth who came later, looking for freedom from the rigid roles of town, said that the others were afraid of them.

  For a while, Jane worried that she would miss her home. She didn’t. She pitied her mother, but found a true motherly presence in Rosemary. Sometimes she thought of the farm work, but she found more fulfilling work keeping house and helping to take care of her new community. And with Adelaide by her side, she no longer thought of William with anything but contempt. And she wasn’t the only one. His reputation hadn’t recovered from their engagement, so she heard. Jane didn’t feel even an ounce of sympathy for him.

  “Jane! Adelaide!”

  This time it wasn’t playful reproach in Florence’s voice, but urgency. Jane exchanged a glance with Adelaide, then stood, helping her lover to her feet.

  Gale, one of their own who had become a traveling witch, had returned. And unlike past times, they didn’t just return with new goods or stories, or even a new understanding of their own gender complete with a set of pronouns. This time, they returned with a slight girl at their side, perhaps a year or so younger than Eloise. She looked at the cottages with eyes as wide as dinner plates, breath shallow in her chest.

  Jane hopped over the fence, Adelaide close behind. She could see her lover gearing up to say something, but Jane beat her to the punch. �
�Gale. Welcome back.” She acknowledged the new girl with only a nod, and even that made her shrink back. She decided that she was right to speak ahead of her more confrontational partner. “I see you’ve brought a friend.”

  “This is Mary.” Gale smiled down at the girl. “She’s a bit nervous. She’s heard stories about us.”

  Jane smiled warmly. “Good ones, I hope.” The girl flinched guiltily, and Jane regretted her choice of words.

  Luckily, Adelaide was close behind her with much-needed bluntness. “If they were bad, we won’t hold it against you.”

  Mary looked up, offering a brief smile. “I wanted to believe… I don’t know… I heard that there’s a place in the woods for people who are… different. That’s not the words that they used, but… I think that perhaps I like ‘different’ better.”

  “I do, too.” Jane said. “For a long time, I felt different. But I don’t feel different now. I feel accepted.”

  She saw the way the girl’s eyes lingered on her hand laced together with Adelaide’s, and she thought she had a good idea of what made Mary “different.” So she stood on her toes, briefly brushing her lips to Adelaide’s.

  Mary’s eyes widened in shock, and she looked around as if expecting someone to shout at them. No one did, of course. She could see hope warring with fear on the girl’s face, and she wished that she could do more to set her at ease.

  As if on cue, Eloise peeked out from Rosemary’s house, where she was staying currently. She looked up to too many of the others to live full-time with just one, and many of them had a room open for the young girl—Adelaide and Jane included.

  “Rosie said there’s someone new?” She brightened when she caught sight of Mary, scampering over. “It’s nice to meet you! I’m Eloise!” She held out a hand, bold as could be.

  “M-Mary,” Mary stammered, taking Eloise’s hand. A faint blush came up on her cheeks, but Jane didn’t miss the way that her shoulders lost just a bit of their tension. Maybe it was seeing someone her age look so comfortable and safe, assuring her that this could be a relatively safe space for her.